


feel the salty waves come in, feel them crash against my skin

by uaevuon



Series: Legends Never Die (the omegaverse geass AU) [12]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dating, Immortality, Love, M/M, Magical Contract, Sci-Fi Elements, Solarpunk, figure skating, hair cutting, mushy romantic gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 00:12:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaevuon/pseuds/uaevuon
Summary: Yuuri slept right through the plane ride home, and after Viktor led his half-asleep body through the airport and over several rail transfers, he fell asleep once more as soon as they got back to the inn. Viktor undressed him, and Yuuri hardly budged until Viktor crawled in beside him, long limbs wrapping around his lover. Only then did he shift to awkwardly pat Viktor’s cheek and slide his hands into Viktor’s hair. A murmuredlove youescaped him, and Viktor’s heart fluttered. He nuzzled his face into Yuuri’s neck and pressed the response into his skin.Love you too, silent, and afraid.





	feel the salty waves come in, feel them crash against my skin

**Author's Note:**

> **this work is part of a series, and will not make any sense without having read the previous parts.**
> 
>  
> 
> CW: thoughts of death/murder/suicide, discussion of mpreg. this chapter is mostly SFW, only a couple passing mentions of naughty business.

Yuuri slept right through the plane ride home, and after Viktor led his half-asleep body through the airport and over several rail transfers, he fell asleep once more as soon as they got back to the inn. Viktor undressed him, and Yuuri hardly budged until Viktor crawled in beside him, long limbs wrapping around his lover. Only then did he shift to awkwardly pat Viktor’s cheek and slide his hands into Viktor’s hair. A murmured _love you_ escaped him, and Viktor’s heart fluttered. He nuzzled his face into Yuuri’s neck and pressed the response into his skin. _Love you too_ , silent, and afraid. 

_Love me_ \-- that was his wish. _Love me, all of me, enough that I come to love you in return._

Viktor had always thought it poetic, that love should one day break his curse. Just like in all those fairy tales he so adored, he would be set free by true love’s kiss. 

But the reality of it was no fairytale happy ending. Instead, he cursed his lover in return. 

He’d cried when he felt the contract turn over, when Yuuri said those perfect, beautiful, terrifying words and then fucked them deep into Viktor. He’d cried, because that was it. It was done. The contract was fulfilled. Viktor could no longer take it back. 

Worst of all, the curse of life that Viktor held could only be transferred through death. Either Yuuri would have to kill Viktor with his own hands -- permanent, leaving Yuuri alone all too soon -- or Yuuri would have to die -- temporary, but impossible. Viktor couldn’t do that to him. Or Viktor could keep the curse, hoard it all to himself, forever young as he watched Yuuri age, and eventually disappear. 

From true love’s kiss to the kiss of death. 

Viktor clung tighter to Yuuri, who mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. 

What could he do? How could he fix this? He didn’t want to ever be parted from Yuuri, and he didn’t want to leave Yuuri alone either. Perhaps he could find another one with the code, convince them to give Yuuri a new contract. Or Viktor could form one with someone else, pass his curse on to them instead… 

Tears stung at Viktor’s eyes, and he shook with the need to hold it in. He’d already cried enough over this, in the few private moments he had, and he didn’t want to wake Yuuri. 

Apparently the shivers that wracked his body were enough to do it; Yuuri shifted, his eyes opening slowly in the darkness. The right one emanated a faint glow, the iris glazing over in what looked like a sheen of pink amongst the bluish shadows. 

“Vitya?” Yuuri’s voice was thick with sleep. “Are you crying?” 

“No,” Viktor said, with a telling waver. The first hot drip from his eye landed on Yuuri’s chest. 

“Oh, Vitya. What’s wrong?” 

“I-- I can’t--” Viktor stammered, breathing heavy as his emotions overflowed. A love too big to bear alone, shot through with painful sadness at what he knew he must lose. 

“It’s the contract, isn’t it?” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor cried harder when he realized that Yuuri _knew_. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, though he had nothing to apologize for. “I noticed as soon as I said it. I felt it. The contract changed. It’s done, isn’t it?”

Viktor could only nod, his face rubbing against Yuuri’s chest. 

“And I could see how scared you were. I’m scared too,” he admitted, even as he pet Viktor’s hair to soothe him. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose you.” 

Yuuri sniffed, his words catching as he began to cry as well, his tears matching Viktor. “But I don’t regret saying it. I love you. I want you to know. I _need_ you to know that. No matter what happens.” 

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasped out, the name as painful as it was beautiful. “I love you too.”

“I know you do.” Yuuri’s hand clenched in Viktor’s long hair, pulling him closer. 

Viktor’s all-over embrace tightened as well, as if he was trying to climb into Yuuri’s skin. “I love you so much. I never want to be without you.” 

“I feel the same.” Yuuri’s voice broke, and he sniffed loudly. “I can’t even think about it. It hurts too much.” 

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor repeated, broken. 

“Vitya. We’ll figure this out,” Yuuri promised. “We’ll fix it. I know we will.” 

Viktor shook his head, not even caring that he rubbed his tear tracks and his running nose into Yuuri’s travel-sweaty skin. 

“I know it,” Yuuri repeated, stronger. “I know we can do anything together, Vitya. I may not believe in myself as much as you think I should, but I believe in _us_.” 

“I love you,” Viktor said, because he couldn’t say anything else.

“I love you too,” Yuuri answered. 

They held one another, whispering sweet nothings back and forth, tearful until they fell asleep, exhausted by the weight of their love. 

\---

The contract’s manifested glow never faded from Yuuri’s eye after that. 

Yuuri awoke to it when he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes in daylight, seeing the world around him part discolored and his reflection in the mirror turned the truth back on him. He tried to blink it out of his eyes, to will it away, even to stare at it and hope it went down, but no dice. He returned to his bedroom, and to Viktor, with his eyes downcast, hoping to avoid contact with anyone his empathic projections could affect. 

Wordlessly, Viktor handed over his sunglasses. Yuuri’s world blurred without his prescription lenses, but at least he could protect his family from his own worries. 

“We’ll get you contacts,” Viktor said. “You shouldn’t be skating in a blur anyway. I see you squinting out there every day.” 

“I hate contacts…” Yuuri mumbled. “Will it help block out the contract?” 

“It usually does.” 

For that day, though, Yuuri had to skate in his usual myopic state, his persistently activated contract vulnerable. He avoided Yuuko and any others he might affect, and practiced his jumps harder than ever under Viktor’s careful eye and cutting instruction. He had to get the flip perfect, if he was going to hinge both of his programs on it. 

After hours of practice, innumerable falls, and all too many bruises up and down Yuuri’s legs and hips, Viktor declared practice to be over, and sent Yuuri to cool down in the locker room while he worked on something of his own. 

“It’s a secret,” was all Viktor had to say about it. 

“Can I watch?” Yuuri asked, and Viktor stared at him wide-eyed. 

“You want to?”

“I love watching you skate. I always have.” 

Viktor nodded slowly, and he let Yuuri stay on the ice. “Don’t follow me too closely,” Viktor warned, as if Yuuri didn’t know about the unpredictable nature of Viktor’s movements. 

Yuuri recognized the music immediately as yet another from Viktor’s “On Love” suite. He’d watched Viktor from the shadows enough times by now to know before he began what it would be, but this was a rendition he hadn’t heard before. More repetitive than the others, each instrument realistic but still noticeably synthetic, right down to the modulated vocals. 

Viktor’s choreography, or what existed of it so far, was a perfect match. While it still retained Viktor’s penchant for surprises, perhaps the biggest surprise here was just how much of the program was predictable. Yuuri wondered if he’d drawn it up on a repeating figure, and after three circuits of the rink Yuuri could tell that Viktor had done so, with only slight deviations for more complicated elements. 

All in all, it described a love that was sensible and structured, enduring if not exciting. Was this the love that Viktor felt for him after all? A love that simply existed because it made sense? 

But no -- Viktor skated this without feeling, as if he simply did it because he had to. Not with the love that shone in his eyes when he looked at Yuuri, or that danced on his fingers when he touched him. This was, if Yuuri could imagine Viktor’s thoughts, if he could extrapolate upon what Viktor had revealed of his life before Yuuri, the love that Viktor felt for himself. 

_I love myself because I’m supposed to_ , Viktor said with his dance. _I live because I have no other choice_. 

It pained Yuuri to see this. But he had no room to criticise it, not when he felt much the same for himself. 

Yuuri wanted to see Viktor skate for him. He’d given Viktor his heart again and again in his own skating; he wanted to see it returned in the language each of them knew best. 

_What is the love that defines us?_ Yuuri wondered. _You love me, but what kind of love is that?_

Was it Eros -- passionate but fleeting lust? Agape -- selfless, even self-sacrificing? Was it that manic, obsessive love; that familial, coming-home sort of love; or this, sensible and pragmatic? 

No. There was more, there must be. None of these described how Yuuri felt, and none of them matched the way Viktor looked at him. Not any of them on their own. Though each had elements that Yuuri recognized, there was always _more_ , something that reached beyond. 

When Viktor finally came to a stop, Yuuri asked him the question that had been on his mind since he’d first watched Viktor in secret all those months ago: “How many of these do you have?” 

Viktor fiddled with their shared water bottle, looking down at it as he answered. “Six. Why; how many have you seen?”

“Including _Eros_ and _Agape_ , this is the fifth.” 

“How long have you been watching me?” Viktor asked. Yuuri was too embarrassed to answer. “Then I guess I’ll have to come up with the last one, too.”

“What’s the theme of that one? Love, I know, but each of these has been so different.”

“It’s… playful. Sort of puppy love-ish. But something that you’re willing to bet your whole life on, even if you don’t have any reason to believe it will last.” Viktor pressed his lips to the mouth of the water bottle, but pulled it away before he drank. “I’ve had trouble with it. The music is probably my favorite in the suite, but the choreography just won’t come.” 

“Do you think you’ll give these to someone else, the way you gave the first two to me and Yurio?”

Viktor shook his head. “No, I think they’re a bit too personal.” He smiled to himself, fiddling with the cap on the water bottle. “I have something else to show you. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but.” He set the bottle down and fiddled with the music player. 

“I usually commission several arrangements for my music,” Viktor began, as he set the music to play. An orchestra swelled, familiar though Yuuri couldn’t quite place a finger on it. “This one went through the most revisions, though only two were recorded. This is the demo for _Stammi Vicino, Non te ne Andare_.” 

At that moment, the vocals began, a familiar robust tenor at a marginally slower tempo. The orchestra was not the building, crashing thing of the version Viktor skated to, but more muted, more airy. Almost a lullaby. A second voice, a vibrant soprano, joined in for the familiar chorus. 

“The second verse hadn’t been written yet,” Viktor explained at a break in the vocals. He barely exceeded a whisper, still allowing the magical melody to ring clear. “It was much too hopeful for the tragic, lonely choreography I had in mind. But I always loved it. This was what I wished love could feel like, someday, for me.” He breathed in deeply at the last few lines of singing, the duet fading out on a high note. 

“That was beautiful,” Yuuri whispered. He’d come closer to Viktor without noticing, drawn to him by gravity or magnetism or the simple attraction of love. 

“I want to use it.” Viktor looked at Yuuri, their faces only inches apart. “I want us to skate to it.” 

“Us?” 

Viktor nodded. “Yes. A dance, between lovers. Come on.” He took Yuuri’s hands and pulled him to center ice. “Start with the choreography for the aria. Look for me; I’ll join you, and I’ll walk you through some of the steps. It’s a simple dance. We won’t do any lifts yet.” Viktor planted a kiss at the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, delighting in Yuuri’s wide-eyed stare, and then let go, skating backwards to the boards. 

Yuuri got into position, hesitant as he was. The music was a bit slower, so he had to slow down his steps to match, but it gave him more time to set up for the initial quad Lutz, and he landed it for the first time since Yuuko’s triplets had filmed him in secret. He couldn’t hold back the grin that split his face at the clean slice of his edges through the ice, the smooth transition into the next elements, and _Viktor_ , sliding seamlessly into Yuuri’s hands. 

“Hi,” Yuuri said. 

“Hi,” Viktor responded, and he took the lead, drawing Yuuri forward into new steps. The two of them fumbled along, neither of them having much experience in pairs, laughing all the while as they tripped over one another’s feet and their own toe picks. The music faded to the background, just the two of them having fun, choreographing something together that could almost be called an ice dance. 

“That’s what I feel for you, Yuuri,” Viktor said as they swayed to the notes of the music, caught in an embrace, backlit by sunset through the glass walls at the end of the rink. “It’s not about any one form of love. I just want you to stay by my side. Forever.”

Yuuri leaned against Viktor’s shoulder. “I want the same thing. That’s how I’ve always loved you. From the first moment we met. I think I always knew. I said I just wanted a moment of your time, but really… I wanted forever. I never wanted you to stop looking at me.” 

“I never will. I’m yours, Yuuri Katsuki. Now and forever.”

Yuuri entwined their hands, and he felt Viktor’s grin against his cheek. 

“If I medal at the Final,” Yuuri began, and he pulled back so he could look in Viktor’s eyes as he asked. “Will you skate this with me at the exhibition?” 

“Yes.” Viktor drew Yuuri back in to kiss him, chaste but lingering on his lips. “Yes, yes, _please_.”

“You’ll need a costume. I don’t suppose you have your old one?”

Viktor shook his head. “No, and it wouldn’t match yours anyway. The whole pattern is different, you know. But I…” He bit his lip and lowered his head, looking cutely at Yuuri through his eyelashes. “I do have a match. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Ever since we decided you would use _Stammi Vicino_ as your exhibition. I thought, just in case, and if I’m commissioning you three costumes already, why not get one for myself…?” Viktor looked sheepish, but Yuuri beamed. 

“Show me.” 

\---

_SKYLINE arrive à la ville Nouveau Ciel. S'il vous plaît gardez vos affaires et restez dans le cercle jaune._

The notification repeated in several languages, but Yuuri picked up context from those around him, who all shuffled inwards and clutched their luggage tighter. SKYLINE’s platforms had some sort of acceleration dampening technology, so only the barest amount of belly-flipping slow-down could be felt as the elevator completed its ascent. Yuuri took one last look at the world beneath him, the fields and city lights, the rivers throughout the south of France, before SKYLINE entered its port. 

All went dark for a few moments as the platform passed from its hard light lift into the tunnel of New Sky City’s skyport, and then it emerged back into sunlight, to the airborne city’s sun-kissed beauty. 

_Bienvenue à Nouveau Ciel._

The safety locks deployed, and the platform’s outer wall came down, allowing a smooth exit onto the windy skyport. Hovercar taxicabs waited around the skyport’s perimeter to bring passengers to their homes or, as in Yuuri and Viktor’s case, to their hotels. 

Beyond the familiar chrome of the skyport was a city unlike any Yuuri had ever seen. Though the city itself had only lifted from the ground less than one year prior, the structures were twenty years in the making, all made of trees warped around stained glass and solar panel windows. Aside from the taxis, all transportation was either pedestrian or by boat through the narrow canals that fed each carefully pruned bit of flora. Even with the thick, leafy canopy overhead, swaying and rustling tirelessly in the constant wind, the city gleamed from every corner, each bit of light shining through carefully refracted in a million different directions. 

Luckily the brightness meant that no-one questioned Yuuri’s dark sunglasses, covering the purple in his eye. 

A colorful mist rose from the canals in the early morning, enveloping Yuuri and Viktor in its embrace as they stepped out of their taxi in front of the hotel set aside for the skaters. Due to space constraints, most attendees would house at ground level and take SKYLINE or a shuttle up each morning, but only those competing and their coaches were invited to reside in the city. They would have the honor of seeing New Sky City at all hours of day and night, from the misty sunrise, to the glittering midday, to the fiery sunset, to the sparkling pulse of a sleepless midnight. 

The hotel wasn’t what one might describe as grand, but it was beautiful in every sense of the word. A cozy lobby nestled at the interior of a wide tree, with soft, nest-like alcoves for reading set into the walls all the way up and windmill-powered elevators to reach them. Then, up to the ceiling and out between the branches, bridges led to most of the hotel rooms, each one a round wood-and-glass treehouse sat sturdy between thick branches and wrapped round with decorative vines. A handful of accessible accommodations also bubbled out from around the lobby at ground level, equally as intimate and decorated. 

It was overwhelming, and that was before they actually got into the room. 

A one-room apartment like no other Yuuri had ever seen. A round nesting bed sat in the center, elevated from the floor by only a small platform, with several suitcase-sized hollows. Around the exterior wall, three-quarters of the room had counter space, functionally partitioned into a desk, a chest of drawers, and a washing vanity. A small section over the drawers was devoted to a clothing rod. The last quarter of wall space was tiled in sandstone, with a rain shower set into the roof and a bed of soft moss below, bracketed by a semicircle of grated drains. A wall of glass cut off either side of the shower, with the entry left open to the room.

The room was private from the world outside, but fully bared to itself within. 

“I guess they gave us a room designed for mates,” Viktor said, while Yuuri was still taking it all in. “I don’t mind, but that’s a little presumptive, don’t you think?” 

“I think…” Yuuri paused, staring at the bed now that everything else had sunk in. “We’re going to need more blankets.” 

\---

Viktor left the room to find out where the hotel kept its nesting materials, while Yuuri unpacked for the both of them. He found a storage of blankets in the lobby, and showed the ornately decorated room key to concierge, receiving a full basket of blankets, plush towels, and vacuum-sealed pillows. There was even a kit of scent-markers, but as neither of them was an alpha with a need to mark his territory, Viktor was certain they wouldn’t need them. 

He returned to the room with only a little difficulty maneuvering around the basket, but Yuuri had finished with the clothes and was already starting in on the bed. Yuuri’s three costumes, as well as Viktor’s suits and his recently unveiled exhibition shirt, all hung in the narrow closet, with the rest of their clothing folded neatly into drawers and their suitcases stowed beneath the bed. Yuuri’s skate bag sat awkwardly below the desk; his skates rested on a towel, unlaced and airing out. 

Yuuri, in the center of the bed, rearranged the pile of decorative pillows around the sides of the nest. He’d discarded the sunglasses, back in his usual blue frames with one eye glowing. He beamed at Viktor when he heard the hiss of a vacuum bag opening, and giggled adorably as Viktor struggled to remove a thick, soft pillow. Viktor jumped on the bed while Yuuri wasn’t looking, taking him down on his back with the pillow pressed between them. 

Yuuri continued to laugh, and Viktor joined in, nest-building forgotten in place of cuddling that turned into dozing, not quite asleep but not quite awake after all their travel. 

“I’m gonna do two quad flips,” Yuuri murmured, slightly in awe of himself. He brushed Viktor’s cheek with his thumb, just under an impossibly blue eye that crinkled sleepily at him. “I’m gonna do two quad flips, to show the world how deeply in love I am with Viktor Nikiforov, and how much he loves me back.” 

“I love you,” Viktor said, because he wanted to and that was good enough reason. 

Yuuri squished Viktor’s face between his palms, and leaned in the two inches that had separated them, kissing him squarely on puckered lips. “I love you so much. I want the whole world to know.”

“Only the world? What about Mars?” 

Yuuri snorted, then rubbed his nose against Viktor’s. “Oh, of course. Can’t forget Mars.” 

“We should go, someday. I hear it’s beautiful.”

“What-- to Mars?” Yuuri’s brows furrowed. “I mean, I guess it would be interesting. It’s a long trip though. Nine months either way, and what is it, five hundred days between launches?”

“Well, when you feel like taking two or three years off…” 

“Maybe we’ll go after I retire,” Yuuri said. 

“I thought we agreed you’re never going to retire.” 

Yuuri was quiet for a little while, his eyes flicking up to Viktor, then away, then back again. He fidgeted, and Viktor could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He supposed it was a little jarring, to say that like it was an inevitability, a guaranteed thing that Yuuri would always be skating, but on some level Viktor knew it would end up that way. Eventually, Yuuri would take his code, whether they wanted it to happen or not. Viktor didn’t like to think about it, didn’t want to wonder how long it would be until then, or how soon. He thought, though they hadn’t discussed it, that deep down Yuuri knew it as well. 

Someday, the contract would be beyond their means of control. Viktor could only hope that day was far, far off. 

Finally, Yuuri spoke. “I guess I’ll take a few years off when I’ve beaten all your records. Not just the scores, but I’ll need gold at five World Championships too, right?” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Viktor couldn’t completely disguise the way his voice shook, but he took Yuuri’s hand and tangled the premature grief between their fingers, crushing it in their tight hold. 

“It could be our --” Yuuri paused, his hand momentarily crushing Viktor’s, and his face flushed. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “Getting ahead of myself.” He kissed Viktor, and though they both knew it was a distraction, it was a very effective one, as Viktor let Yuuri roll him onto his back and push his hands up his shirt. 

“Cold,” Viktor mumbled, but it was lost in the gasp that followed when those chilled fingers touched his nipples. 

“We have such a big bed, for once,” Yuuri said. “We should make good use of it.” 

\---

After a round of vigorous fucking, Yuuri fell into a real slumber, curled up and purring in the circular bed, and Viktor crept out of the room after leaving him a note. He’d heard about open-air baths nearby, and wanted to try them out, though he was sure they wouldn’t compare to the Katsukis’ onsen. 

There was one main mixed bath, shallow and open to the sun, as well as several smaller baths separated by secondary gender, each with a slatted wooden roof and a few ferns and tall grasses placed for a bit more privacy. Along the outskirts of the bathing enclosure were a number of small, private baths with low walls around, intended for mates or families. 

Viktor normally would head for the mixed bath, as he’d always done at the onsen, but something about the public nature of it turned him away. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his body, but more that he was extremely aware of how he’d given every inch of it to Yuuri, and something about bathing in full view of the sun and any person who happened to walk by felt… not wrong, but simply distasteful. 

The omega baths seemed more up Viktor’s alley, a bit less populated or conversational, so he slid into one, fully nude, leaving the provided white robe folded to the side. Though the city was generally cool and windy at such a high altitude, the baths were warm and so was the air around them, suffused with humidity and healing minerals. 

Viktor didn’t need much help with healing, but the baths were calming, too, and that never went unappreciated. 

Moments after he’d settled in amongst floating flower petals and purifying seaweed, Viktor heard a rustling nearby. He looked up to see Christophe Giacometti leaning over him, his robe artfully falling open off his shoulders. His chest glistened with moisture from the showers. 

“Mind if I join you for a soak?” Chris asked, his voice low. 

Viktor shrugged. “Feel free.” 

Chris slipped in next to Viktor. He submerged himself completely, bubbles escaping his mouth and nose, then emerged after several long moments, pushing his short, bleached hair out of his eyes and dripping wet all over the place. A rose petal artfully stuck to one nipple. 

“When did you cut your hair?” Viktor asked. “You used to wear it so long.” 

“After I stopped being Gabriel Roche.” Chris sat on the ledge beside Viktor, his legs spread to accommodate the clear water’s flow to all areas of his body. “I know the length is tradition for ones such as us, but it’s easier for those of us who try to blend in to get rid of it. I’m far from the only one who has. Look at Plisetsky; he should be as overgrown as Rapunzel by now.” He quieted for a moment, stirring the water near him with his hand. “And, well, I suppose I grieved for you in my own way.” 

“You cut your hair for me?”

“It’s as good a reason as any. Don’t worry, I only started bleaching it as Christophe. What about you?” Chris wiggled his eyebrows. “Why did you cut it, all those years ago?”

“I don’t remember,” Viktor said, and Chris sobered. 

“Ah. I suppose you wouldn’t. What do you remember of life?” 

Viktor shook his head. “Very little. I know the names of my parents, my sister, my coaches and rinkmates, but none of their faces. I remember my programs, their purpose, sometimes even creating the music. But I don’t remember practicing them or performing them. I remember none of my competitions, except for the videos I’ve seen. I remember my dog better than most anything else.”

“How about me?”

“ _Désolé, Monsieur Roche._ ” Viktor smiled ruefully. “I don’t remember you at all. Only what I knew of you after I was cursed.”

“And we were such good friends!” Chris whined. He leaned back against the rocks and moss. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault you for that. You were forgetful even when you were alive. It explains a lot, though.”

“What do you mean?” 

Chris shrugged. “Everything about you, really. The way you look, the way you speak, the way you dress, even Yuuri.” 

“What about Yuuri?” Viktor glanced at Chris, but Chris was only looking up at the clear blue sky just visible in the spaces between the boards of the roof. He didn’t respond, so Viktor leaned back, relaxing in the pleasant warmth of the bath. “Do you think I should cut my hair again?”

“It’s up to you. If you don’t like it this time, well, you have plenty of years ahead of you to grow it back out. Yuuri will find you sexy either way.” 

Viktor hummed, noncommittal, as he closed his eyes, thankful that for once Chris had the tact not to comment further. 

\---

When Viktor returned to their hotel room, Yuuri was face-down on the bed with his ass in the air, moaning into one of the wonderfully fluffy pillows. 

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed. His lover scrambled to lay down like a normal person, which Viktor was having none of. “I’m so cold after those baths; warm me up!” 

He jumped into bed, immediately going octopus around Yuuri, who screeched something about Viktor being wet. 

“Always wet for you, my love.”

“Viktor!” 

Viktor laughed, cradling Yuuri’s head to his chest. “You’re so cute when you’re grumpy. Come on, what were you thinking about, presenting yourself like that?”

Yuuri stopped struggling, and Viktor loosened his hold a bit so he could appreciate Yuuri looking up at him, blushing and disgruntled and with hair all in disarray. “What do you think I was thinking about?” he mumbled, and blushed more. 

How Yuuri could be so embarrassed when he’d slept with Viktor so many times was beyond anyone’s comprehension. 

“It’s just, well, we did it that way for you, but never for me, and I do like it. You know, sometimes. Every time I’ve tried it, I mean--”

“Yuuri,” Viktor interrupted. He took hold of Yuuri’s shoulders, leveling him with a serious gaze. “Are you saying you want me to put my dick in your ass?”

“Um. Yes?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me before!” Viktor grinned, shaking Yuuri slightly. “We can’t do it now, obviously, since you’ll be skating tomorrow and we don’t want you all sore. But maybe after the competition, we can do a little more experimenting in this beautiful bed of ours, yes?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, smiling despite his bashfulness. 

Viktor flopped onto his back, arms spread wide. Yuuri curled up against his side. “We should get a nest bed for home. I love your small bed, really I do. Lots of good memories there. But think of how much more comfortable we’d be with something like this under us all the time.” 

“I don’t think there’s a room at Yu-topia that will fit it.”

“We’ll use the dining room,” Viktor said, as if it were obvious. “Or, no; we’ll just have to buy a house of our own in Hasetsu.” 

Yuuri tucked his head in closer under Viktor’s arm. “Yeah? What kind of house do you want?”

“Traditional, of course. Now that I’ve had tatami, I could never go back to carpet.”

“I want roll-out windows, though. The push-out kind always have a draft.” Yuuri’s fingertips played along the sliver of Viktor’s damp chest left bare between the open buttons of his shirt. “We could get a dog.” 

“Yes. A poodle, of course. Poodles are the best dogs.”

“Mm. They are.” 

They were silent for a while. When Viktor spoke up again, it was much quieter than before. 

“Yuuri?”

“Mm.”

“Do you want kids?” 

Yuuri didn’t answer right away. His hand curled into a fist, trapping a bit of fabric from Viktor’s robe, but then he let go and smoothed the wrinkles. “Someday. I want to carry at least one of my own, if I still can. How about you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. Never thought I could, since I’m...” He trailed off, letting Yuuri fill in the rest. 

Everything Viktor knew about his immortal body made it seem he’d never have the option; his body rejected any invader, reverted any change. Only the bit of milk he’d created during his heat gave any indication that he might, miraculously, have a chance after all. 

“But maybe,” Viktor said, tempting fate. “I think I’d be a good father.”

“Ah.” Yuuri played with Viktor’s robe, brushed fingers over his warm collarbones. “We should have a big garden. For, for our kids to play in.”

“Mm-hm.” Viktor pressed his lips together, a smile caught between his teeth. “How many?” 

“I think… three is a good number.”

“Three? Wow.” 

“We have to be able to hold our own against Yuuko’s girls.” 

“Oh, we’ll need at _least_ five children to hold our own against so many energetic alphas.”

“Five, huh?” Yuuri lifted his head, and he saw Viktor gazing down at him, beaming like the sun. He couldn’t help but return the smile. “You want five pups?”

“I wouldn’t mind five.” 

“Five it is, then.” Yuuri cuddled in a little closer than before, and when Viktor’s arms came around him fully, he began to purr deep in his chest. Viktor matched him with a quiet rumble, and started to stroke his hair. 

\---

The first thing Yuuri saw upon entering the Beehive Sport Complex’s skating arena was an uncharacteristically disgruntled Phichit Chulanont. 

After about five seconds of confusion, Yuuri remembered they’d made plans to do a round of touristy sightseeing together, before Yuuri fell asleep, jetlagged to hell on top of the exhaustion of intense training. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri blurted. Phichit only sighed. 

“I forgive you. I ended up going around on my own, until Chris found me. But I wish you’d been there, Yuuri; everything was so beautiful, and I’ve barely seen you in months. It would’ve been nice to catch up for longer than a couple outrageous dinners, you know?” 

“I know. I’m really, really sorry. I had my watch off, and you know how I--”

“You can’t remember anything without your ping schedule.” Phichit shook his head, but his lips quirked upward toward his usual easy smile. “I love you, Yuuri, and I know you, and I wouldn’t change you for anything. But I do miss you. I hope we can at least hang out before the Final ends.” 

“Definitely. Yes. I’ll make sure of it.” Yuuri put his hands together and leaned forward, giving the best apologetic bow he could while wearing his skates.

Phichit accepted his apology and his promise, and left to practice. 

Viktor’s hand landed on Yuuri’s shoulder, dragging him out of a momentary slouch. “I’d say I’ll remind you, but…” 

“Your memory is even worse than mine,” Yuuri finished. “It’s okay; he won’t let me flake again. Though I always feel bad making him look out for me like this.” 

“He likes it,” Viktor said. “People who love you want to look out for you, Yuuri. That’s how friendship works.” 

“I thought you didn’t have a lot of friends.”

“ _Ouch_ , Yuuri. I have friends!” Viktor pressed a hand over his heart, affecting a hurt expression as he turned away from Yuuri. “Chris and I had a very nice heart-to-heart in the mineral baths last night.” 

“Of course you did. Is that why you came back with your hair dripping on our nest?” 

Viktor kissed Yuuri’s cheek in lieu of an answer. There were no cameras at the practice, which gave them more room for public displays of affection, but at this point they probably wouldn’t stop for a camera anyway. 

Yuuri shook his head, softly laughing. “I should get on the ice.” 

“You should.” Viktor stroked Yuuri’s soft cheek, oddly tender for the opening to a coachly pep talk. “You know your step sequences like the back of your hand. Your choreography is better than anything even I could’ve done at my best.” 

Another kiss, and Viktor pulled away enough to look in Yuuri’s eyes, now wide and expressive with contracts fixing his usual need to squint. They nearly matched, but the brown colored contact in Yuuri’s right eye didn’t have the depth of his natural color, and on such short notice the sizing wasn’t perfect, with the tiniest bit of pink showing around the edges of his wide irises. It wasn’t enough to activate their contract, and it was only noticeable at a distance of two inches, but it was there and it wasn’t going away. 

“Go warm up, then let me see your Salchow first. We’ll do the flip after you get into your groove.”

“No-one says _groove_ anymore, Vitya.” Yuuri broke away with a laugh and pulled off his hard blade guards, handing them over to Viktor. Yuuri’s fingers trailed along the inside of Viktor’s wrist for a moment, and then he was off, and Viktor felt a chill up and down his arm. 

He pulled his coat tighter around him, popping the collar so he could scream quietly behind it. 

For once, Yuuri followed Viktor’s suggestions to a tee, probably because Viktor told him to jump and that was all Yuuri wanted to do. Seduction on ice would come tomorrow, and an overflow of abundant love two days later, but today was all technical practice. And Yuuri did well, so well in fact that when practice ended and Yuuri asked Viktor to take him sightseeing while the other skaters rested, Viktor had already decided on a _yes_ before Yuuri winked at him. 

After all, Yuuri had wanted to take a look around New Sky City, even if he missed out on doing so with his best friend. The Beehive was one of the city’s most impressive structures, a hemispherical sports arena and training complex built from hexagonal solar panels, iridescent stained glass, and gilded steel, but they would be in and out of it for much of the next few days. There was so much more to see. 

First order of business was lunch, so Viktor dragged Yuuri by the wrist through the nearby streets, the two of them laughing all the while, until he found a cafe that looked suitably romantic. There were balconies draped with grape vines and small, colorful plates of finger foods and waiters dressed in flowing drapes of peach-colored recycled silk in the city’s world-renowned zero-waste fashion style. 

“We should go shopping,” Viktor suggested around a mouthful of blueberry-infused radish, which tasted much better than it had any right to. He followed it with a small strip of roasted chicken. Their waiter had noted when he served the dish that due to the flying city’s weight restrictions, only fowl under ten pounds and fish under five were allowed in the New Sky for purposes of animal husbandry, and all other meats were imported from the ground. 

Yuuri was busy savoring a quail-egg-and-cheese tart with plum slices and mint. This was one of three delicacies of New Sky, the other two being a sweet eel soup and a fermented peach spirit. After he eventually swallowed the tart, he opened his eyes and responded. “We could go to the Haut Marche.” 

_Le Haut Marche_ , or the Raised Market, was a relatively small shopping center dedicated mainly to worn items (clothing, shoes, hats, jewellery, and the like), hair and makeup salons, and street food vendors. As its name implied, it was an elevated quarter, raised by magnetism from the New Sky City’s already airborne ground level. 

“You want to buy clothes?” 

“You did say I should get a new suit. We could get some of the flowy gowns people wear here, too. Just for fun.” Yuuri sipped his drink, a punch made with a diluted form of the very peach spirit Viktor drank by the bottle. It was the only alcohol Yuuri agreed to drink that day; he turned down the idea of even so much as a drop as soon as the sun went down, since he’d be skating the next day and couldn’t afford the risk of a hangover. 

Viktor watched Yuuri’s lips touch the rim of the glass; the sweet pink pucker as he drew the liquid into his mouth; the droplets swept up by a wet tongue. Even though there was very little alcohol in his drink, somehow just a few sips loosened Yuuri’s tension, eased the line of his shoulders and the perpetual furrow in his brow. His eyelids drooped, not sleepy, but wanting, and his lips were quirked up, like he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Vitya? Are we going shopping? I hear Haut Marche is beautiful.”

“Yes,” Viktor agreed, hypnotized. He paid the check, and they were on their way. 

Viktor pulled Yuuri along through the crowds, entering nearly every shop if even the smallest thing in a window caught his eye. He riffled through racks, picking out clothes for both of them; he bought Yuuri a suit off the rack, after making him trying on nearly a dozen, and then had the same tailor measure him for another, all the while hiding the receipts from Yuuri. 

“You can make it up to me by holding the bags,” Viktor placated, but then he had nearly every shop mail their purchases back to Japan.

And once or twice, Viktor found himself so overwhelmed by the look of Yuuri in this suit or that gown or those shoes or robe after robe after sheer, clinging, nipple-revealing draped robe that he got down on his knees and made inappropriate use of the dressing room. 

Yuuri had no eye for clothing; Viktor knew that very well. He could pick out decent fabrics for yukata, as demonstrated when he took Viktor to buy his first personalized one before a festival, and his athletic wear was well-tailored and fashionable due to Mizuno’s carefully-chosen sponsor contributions, but when it came to streetwear he was simplistic and collegiate, and in terms of formalwear he was a mess. His one suit was horribly saggy and made from matte black polyester, with the lining coming apart at the seams. And there were no words for the atrocity of his handful of ties. 

“After this shopping trip, we’ll have you dressed just right for how beautiful you are, Yuuri.” Viktor spun around in the middle of the street, ignoring the stares of those around him. He assumed they were expecting some sort of performance to begin, with him and all his flowing princess hair and billowing skirts. He and Yuuri had worn their new robes out of the store, Yuuri in waves of white and midnight blue, Viktor in a gradient of palest pink to royal violet. They must have made quite the picture, two gorgeous omegas in so much flowing chiffon, wrapped up in layers upon layers for warmth and decency (though if one looked very closely, one might see a dark smudge where stripes of white _almost_ covered the trimmed hair between Yuuri’s legs, and Viktor of course looked _very, very closely_ ). 

Certainly they weren’t so out of place amongst the hundreds around them in their eye-catching colors and patterns, yet they drew a crowd, the way celebrities and bearers of a code and contract tended to. People tended to be drawn to danger, after all, enticed by fear and tempted by the unknown, even if they didn’t know it was there. It made sense that their animal instincts turned them toward Viktor and his witch-turned-lover. 

Viktor swept Yuuri up in his arms, pulling him close by the hand and waist despite the few bags left on his arms. “Dance with me, Yuuri!” 

Viktor’s mood was infectious, and Yuuri agreed, letting Viktor swing him round and round down the cobbles towards a fountain, where a band played. Yuuri, ever-trusting, placed his three bags down beside a guitarist, and allowed Viktor to lead him as the crowd grew and people cheered and clapped. 

If this was what it was like to dance in front of a crowd with Yuuri, Viktor thought he’d like to do it forever. 

“Yuuri,” he whispered while they danced, like it was a secret. “I want to cut my hair.”

“What?” For the first time today, Yuuri looked anything but happy. In fact he seemed alarmed. “Where did this come from?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I think, when we skate together in a few days, I want everyone to see exactly who it is you’re dancing with. And I could donate it!” Viktor exclaimed, spinning Yuuri out. “Think of how many wigs they could make with this much blond.” 

“I don’t know, your hair is kind of thin…” 

“Yuuri!” Viktor snapped, insulted, as he drew Yuuri back in. 

Yuuri stammered a bit, correcting himself. “I meant the strands, not the amount!” 

“Hmph.” Viktor swept his arms around Yuuri’s back, and lowered him into a dip. “Don’t you think I’d look good with my old hair style, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri swallowed thickly, his eyes wide. “Uhh…” 

“Thought so.” Viktor lifted him back to standing, then spun Yuuri halfway, and they danced a few bars front-to-back. “We’ll find a hairdresser. After the dance is over, of course. Wouldn’t want to let all these wonderful people down with an early finish.” 

“Do you mind if I look for something while you’re getting your hair cut?” 

“Ooh, is it a surprise for me?” Viktor took steps around Yuuri, until they faced one another again. 

“ _Omiyage_ for my family,” Yuuri corrected. “I haven’t had time to get them anything from the last few competitions. But I guess I can get you something too.”

“Only if it’s gold,” Viktor said, and he pecked Yuuri on the nose. 

\---

Viktor had to travel almost to the edge of the Haut Marche to find a hairdresser he liked enough to trust with his style. The asymmetrical side-shave and long bangs were an out-of-date look, and Viktor would be back in the eye of cameras tomorrow; it had to be perfect. 

He found himself drawn to a salon that was half in shadow, with an all-glass storefront, and when he stepped in and saw a young woman with a hundred tight braids that reached nearly to the floor, he knew he was in the right place. 

On a bare shoulder was a scar that exactly matched his, and when she turned to greet him, her voice caught, and she froze. 

They stared at one another for a few moments, before Viktor cleared his throat and swept his hair out of his face. 

“Er… Do you take walk-ins?” 


End file.
